


Somewhere Close to Paradise (Just short of Paradise)

by chadleymacguff



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Teen Runaways
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:36:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chadleymacguff/pseuds/chadleymacguff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott isn't moved by much these days but somehow the sudden disappearance of his chemistry teacher and the emergence of a strange new boy in town, makes him curious about what maybe happening in Beacon Hills</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere Close to Paradise (Just short of Paradise)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been listening to a lot of music and with music comes prompts for stories. I've mostly just been working on this in-between projects but I think it has potential. let me know what you think. thanks to my beta Reyne

I didn’t see my life panning out like this. Hell I didn’t even think I could never even dream of a place like this. Yet here I am sitting on the floor of a handicapped stall looking up at the crappy array of miscellaneous drawings and writing all over the walls.

Call Sandy for a good time.

This is the end of the road.

Don’t rely on the kindness of strangers.

That last one was particularly funny. The kindness of strangers. If it weren’t for a strangers particular kindness I might not have even ended up here. If it weren’t for him I wouldn’t even be in this situation. Curled up on a dirty floor god knows where with about three bucks and a jean jacket to my name. All of this was his fault. But I might be getting ahead of myself. Maybe I should start at the beginning.

\--

Scott opened his locker like he did every other day; thirteen to the right, twenty-three to the left and two to the right. He knew the combination so well that he didn’t even notice when he was putting even doing it anymore. The mundane repetition of his daily routine had become stale.

“Scott!” Stiles yelled crashing into the metallic junket of storage units.

The sound of Stiles’ body slamming into the lockers made him jump. Stiles had a habit of appearing from thin air, something that Scott was never too fond of but had grown to accept. It was just a part of his unique personality, that and the massive amounts of sarcasm he never seemed to be in short supply of.

Scott had been friends with Stiles since kindergarten. Stiles had offered to share his crayons with Scott who didn’t have any. They quickly became friends, which Scott would often express as being a mistake. He loved Stiles and his wacky antics but he did have the tendency to get the two of them in trouble. That Scott did not enjoy. Especially with the mood he’d been in lately.

“What do you want Stiles?” His voice droned over the words. He pulled out his history book and shoved it into his bag.

Scott wasn’t really in the mood for much of what Stiles was so intent on telling him. It was likely going to be about some big party that was going on that weekend that he would have to make excuses to not attend or worse he’d go on and on about some horrifically fascinating thing he found online. Either way, he needed to get to chemistry class and finish his homework.

“You’re never going to guess what I just found out.” Stiles gasped between words trying to catch his breath. He’d run all the way from the opposite end of the school and it was finally hitting him on how physically exhausting the trek had actually been.

Stiles hunched over clutching his knees sucking in as much oxygen that he could. Scott rolled his eyes, slamming his locker closed, spinning the dial for good measure. People had a habit of breaking into lockers and even though Scott didn’t have anything of monetary value, he still didn’t want to be the next in a string of victims.

“Stiles, whatever it is you have to tell me I’m’ sure it can wait until lunch. I have to get to chem.” Scott re-adjusted the strap of his backpack and motioned to step around him only to have Stiles step in his path.

Stiles placed a firm palm on Scott’s chest to hold him in place.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Stiles paused straightening his posture to Scott in the eyes. “Mr. Harris is missing.”

“Stiles I don’t have time for your practical jokes today, If you haven’t noticed I’m kind of failing his class—“

“I’m not kidding.” His tone was somber.

Scott would tell that this time he wasn’t playing one of his famously unfunny practical jokes. He could feel his thoughts drifting thinking about all of the horribly awful thoughts he’d had about Mr. Harris. About how he wished he would disappear or move away or other things that he couldn’t even try to recall.

“What do you mean missing?” Scott asked again for clarity.

“That’s he’s used his knowledge of chemistry to create a formula to turn himself invisible. Missing Scott. As in not here.”

“I can do without the sarcasm.” Scott snapped back.

Stiles shrugged. He knew how to press Scott’s buttons especially when he was getting on his nerves with stupid questions. Scott wasn’t an idiot but ever once and a while he needed things spelled out for him. Stiles found this to be one of the drawbacks to being the friend in with the high IQ.

The warning bell rang overhead.

“Well I guess there’s no use in going to next period.” Scott sighed.

“That’s my boy.” Stiles clapped a hand on his shoulder, leading him down the less occupied hallway.

Scott didn’t resist or attempt to turn in the opposite direction. He knew that it was useless. Whatever Stiles had in mind for them he was going to get talked into it, so why bother putting up a fight.

“So according to the missing person’s report, no one’s seen or heard from him since about fifth period last Friday. So he’s been missing for about—“

“Three days.” Scott remarked.

“Well, four if you count the school being closed Monday.”

“So what does any of that have to do with us?” Scott asked stopping in the middle of the hallway.

Scott was beginning to get the impression that Stiles was building up to something with all the information he’d accumulated.

“Where’s your sense of adventure Scottie boy?”

“Don’t call me that.” Scott could see the devious look in his eyes. “Please tell me you’re not actually thinking about going out to look for him.”

“That’s exactly what we’re doing.”

Stiles made it a point to emphasize the we in his statement. Meaning his plan involved the two of them. Scott was privy to picking up on the subtle nuances he would try to weasel into conversation. As if he wouldn’t notice.

“Is there a chance that whatever plan that you have cooking up in that head of yours doesn’t involve me?” He pleaded.

Stiles scratched his head, his eyes narrowing as he looked up at the fluorescent lighting.

“No, I don’t see that happening.” He said nonchalantly. Stiles looked over his shoulders to make sure that no one had overheard their conversation. “I’ll pick you up around eight.” He said brushing past Scott to head back to the main hall.

“I never agreed to go with you!” Scott called after him.

The boy turned around to face him, his fingers in his ears. Scott knew that he was going to receive a response like that. He pulled out his phone to check to time.

“It’s almost noon. I should just skip the rest of the day.” He murmured to himself, shoving the device back into his pocket. If he hurried out the side door now he could avoid having to run into anyone else, let alone explain where he was going.

\--

I will never understand why people feel the need to draw on walls in public bathrooms. Why would they spend that much time in here? That’s when I noticed the hole drilled between my stall and the next one. It all seemed to come together after that. The notes, the doodles, the advertisements. Gross. Good thing I’m next to a toilet because I think I’m going to puke.

I might have nodded off for a while cause I never even heard the guy come in. I didn’t even hear him banging on the stall for me to open the door. All I heard was him yelling about six inches away from my face. His breath stained with the smell of cigarettes and whiskey. A foul scent to wake up to.

 _Kid get up!_ Was all I heard before he dragged up to my feet and out of the cramped room I’d come to know so well over the last few hours. I’d have to say I’d miss it a little but that was probably just the alcohol and the burning in my stomach talking.


End file.
